Blood Covered Hands
by Uchiha Mira
Summary: Set in the Mirai timeline. With every kill, Juuhachigou's satisfaction lessens. What Son Gohan said just before he died has never left her mind, but is it really possible for a killer to change her ways?


Disclaimer: Blah blah blah…we don't REALLY need to go through this, do we?

A/N: I had the most fun writing this fic than I had for all my others combined. ^_^ Middle of European History class the inspiration hit me, and by the end of the day it was done. I wish that would happen more often….

As usual, _italics_ represent thoughts or flashbacks.

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Blood Covered Hands

Blood. It drenched the streets, crimson rivulets streaming from every alley and wrecked building. Even the sky seemed stained with it; thick red fingers stretched from the horizon, tainting the morning with evidence of the fresh slaughter. 

A woman stood in the middle of the street, harsh wind whipping silken blonde hair away from her face. Her steely gaze roved the broken landscape, taking in the cracked rubble of homes and scattered, lifeless bodies. Her slender hands were covered in blood, the dark liquid dripping thickly from the tips of fingers which had crushed the bones of thousands.

Ice. It seemed to form her pale blue eyes, their gaze was so piercing. The chill of her stare would convince anyone that this mechanically enhanced woman was completely incapable of any human sentiment. 

Juuhachigou remained motionless amidst the carnage she had caused, flickers of barely perceptible emotion touching her features. Her eyes, usually so cold and impenetrable, now reflected confusion.

The killing sprees were becoming less and less fulfilling. With each scream, death, spurt of blood, the satisfaction waned, and an uncomfortable twist occurred in the pit of her stomach. With every fresh kill, the emptiness breeding within her spread, and after all the humans were dead, the feeling only became stronger.

She didn't like it. She was a machine, nothing more, and her only purpose was to cleanse the planet of every filthy human alive. She hated them, wanted them erased permanently…so why wouldn't the nagging sensation ever leave her be?

Her impassive expression broke, frown lines creasing her otherwise smooth brow as Juuhachigou's gaze turned to a glare. They had killed the half-Saiyan boy three nights ago. Though his body had long been buried, his every essence removed from this planet she so loathed, his last words stayed with her, plaguing, torturing. She had never cared what anyone had ever told her before, yet she could not seem to shake his probing voice from her mind. 

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Storm clouds roiled overhead, torrents of rain pelting down like bullets. Thunder crashed with every heartbeat, the brief accompanying flashes of lightning illuminating the darkened city in eerie brilliance. 

The violent lighting fell upon Son Gohan's face, sharpening his angular features further. Blood dripped from a gash above his brow, stinging his eyes and clouding his vision with its deep crimson haze. The battered warrior struggled to his feet, one empty sleeve flapping wildly in the rough wind, black hair plastered to his bloodied forehead. He had lost the elevated state of Super Saiyan long ago in the fight, and he knew his life was fading as quickly as that dark liquid poured from his charred wounds.

Juuhachigou grinned, lightning enhancing the malicious, almost devilish twist in her smile. The boy was as good as dead - the stench of his burned flesh was perfume to her, his tortured screams music to her ears. He had persisted on interfering in their fun for far too long for her liking, and now at last he would be silenced. She could already feel his blood on her hands.

She was just forming the killing ki blast when Son began to speak, though it was more like a croak, and blood gurgled in his throat.

"Please…"

Juuhachigou snarled in disgust. She had thought Son was better than this - the last person she would expect to beg for mercy. The blast grew hot in her hand, ready to be fired, when Juunanagou moved in front and stopped her. The woman glared at her brother. 

"What now?"

Juunanagou's lips quirked, his cold blue eyes sparkling with sick amusement when the lightning flared. 

"Hold on for a sec," he asked cheerfully. "Their pitiful death pleas are the best part."

Son was breathing shallowly now, the blood in his mouth spattering around his lips. 

"You have…" he gasped, " a chance… to change!"

Juuhachigou's eyes narrowed, and she ignored the bemused snickers coming from her twin.

"You have the chance, why….why don't you take it?" Blood was trickling down his chin, staining the neck of his tattered gi. "You'll eventually… kill… everyone… what then? Dr. Gero doesn't…control you…anymore… you have a…chance to live!" Coughing now, choking on the liquid…

Juunanagou snorted. 

"Well that was one we've never heard before…I'll give him credit for not asking for mercy." He turned to his sister, one eyebrow cocked, and gestured vaguely towards the dying Saiyan. "Care to do the final honors, or should I?"

No response. Juuhachigou as staring at Son, her face a mixture of confusion battled with obstinance. Juunanagou's jovial expression changed to one of suspicion and annoyance, and without taking glaring eyes off his sister, a lethal beam shot from his hand to pierce Son Gohan through the chest. The demi-Saiyan crumpled, one last gurgling breath escaping before his body lay still in a growing pool of crimson.

"I've decided I hate theatrical victims." Juunanagou said flatly, though his voice held no joking tone anymore.

Juuhachigou shook her head, eyes wide as if coming out of a daze.

"Let's go home," she suggested, though her voice was oddly distant. "This is boring."

The two flew off into the storm, leaving the crashing thunder and flickering neon signs the only company to the fallen Son Gohan, his lifeless body slowly growing cold in the freezing rain.

You have a chance to live.

The words rang in her mind with the same intensity as if Son was before her now, pleading and dying. Her confusion did not come out of sympathy for him; she was glad he died, and couldn't care less what he had thought of her.

But the possibility of something more, something beyond this monotony and emptiness. She laughed harshly to herself. Even if she did have a miraculous 'change of heart' and renounced her murderous programming, where would she go? Who would accept someone who had mercilessly slaughtered so many?

Juuhachigou shook her head, pushing the absurd, yet eerily tempting thoughts out of her mind. She had gone too far to ever turn back - there was no point in trying to seek something 'better.'

A tiny footstep sounded to one side, and Eighteen rounded on the noise, ki blast already formed in her hand. In the instant before firing, however, her eyes widened and the energy ball flickered and died. 

Before her stood a small girl no more than seven years old. Her hair, tied back in blue ribbons, was the colour of corn-silk and perfectly straight, and her wide, fearful eyes were of the purest blue. The girl was shaking violently in terror, and normally this display of panic would have delighted the cyborg. Now it triggered a memory.

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A tiny girl shivered on the sidewalk, clutching her blanket like a lifeline. Her fair blond hair was clotted with ash and smelled of smoke, and dark smudges from crawling over charred floors covered the knees of her nightgown. 

The starless night was alive with colour - orange flames shot up from the house before her and cast a hellish glow; smoke poured from windows. Flashing red and white lights atop the several fire trucks and ambulances added to the visual chaos, and people in uniforms and oxygen masks rushed around her, frightening her more than providing security. 

The girl moved towards her brother; he was her only source of protection from this horrible night, as her parents had not yet emerged from the fire. He was a boy of the same age as she, though his hair was jet black and tousled. He stared unblinkingly at the crumbling building, and the girl was astonished to see moisture well up in his pastel blue eyes.

He pulled his twin sister to him, covering her eyes just as the tears began to fall. The girl struggled against his hold as two stretchers were carried past, sheets pulled over the heads of the figures lying unmoving on them, though an overpowering smell still rose as they passed.

The girl fought viciously now, clawing at her brother's hand , salty wet trails flowing down her cheeks.

"Let me see!" she pleaded, voice rising to hysterics. "Let me see!!" Still, his hand stayed over her eyes, and there it remained even as the ambulance carrying the two bodies pulled away. 

Finally the girl stopped struggling, and her whole body shook with sobs. It was too much…the lights, the heat, the running people, the piercing sirens and vehicles rushing to and from the scene. It was all so much bigger than she was, overwhelming, and she was afraid, so afraid…

Juuhachigou stared at the girl, trembling with that same terror, disbelief and shock as if she were looking into a mirror from many years ago. So small and innocent… this child had done nothing, and she had stripped her of home, security, and family the same way the flames had. 

The trauma of her childhood meant nothing to Juuhachigou now, and even if her parents had survived, she most likely would have killed them long ago, as they were human like anyone else. But the horror of that night when she lost everything was still a crystal memory, regardless of the lack of emotion that came with it. This girl was the same as she had been, scared and vulnerable…

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You have the chance to change, why don't you take it?

She had killed countless other children before without so much as a second glance, why should this one be any different?

__

You have a chance to live.

There had to be something deeper than this…would sparing the life of one child be the first step towards something better?

__

You have the chance, take it!

Could she?

__

Take it!

Was it possible for a killer to wash years of blood from her hands?

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Take it!

She could be free…

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TAKE IT!!

Juuhachigou's eyes suddenly blazed, the ice returning, and with a snarl a brilliant wave of searing hot energy exploded from her palm, consuming the terrified child before she even had a chance to scream.

Panting with fury and an intensified hatred, Juuhachigou spun rapidly, entire buildings crumbling at the beams shooting crazily from her fingertips. Even when every structure had been leveled, she didn't stop until the hatred burned in her lungs and scarred her throat.

***

Sometime later, Juunanagou came from the side of the city he had attacked. They took to the air, but she did not care where they went next, or how many people they killed. It would all be the same - the screams, the pleas, the stenches and red-stained streets. Nothing would ever change, and nor would she.

When the sun fully rose, it would shine on the cold face of a beautiful killer - empty hatred in her eyes and blood forever staining her hands.

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End file.
